of interest

July 2008

July 28, 2008

This is not what you think. I am not one of those insanely organized people that begin their Christmas shopping in July. Nor is it a shameless plea for gifts.

Last December, when my family asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I requested Peace on Earth. Even as I said it, I knew it was obnoxious to ask for something so monolithically impossible, but it was the truth. Sort of.

The whole truth was that I just wanted some peace in my life. The unrelenting wave of menus, prep lists, and shopping trips left me feeling like I was making every one else's holidays perfect, while mine went spinning out of control. I longed to bake rustic loaves of bread in my own kitchen instead of fussy hors d'Oeuvres in the kitchens of others and to make thoughtful, personalized gifts instead of participating in the colossal cluster-f*** of consumerism. I was in full-out rebellion and my request was my protestation.

But my family was not responsible and when they justly called me out, I revised my request to something more attainable: books.

The gift certificates sat in a drawer, nearly forgotten. They were waiting for inspiration to strike. The spark started with the recent launch of Mosaic, the interactive website that I gained access to after pre-ordering the Alinea book last fall. The announcements of soon-to-be-released cookbooks by innovative chefs prompted me to dust off the certificates and spend a peaceful afternoon shopping online.

I didn't get Peace on Earth. Instead, I received the gift of childlike anticipation.

While this book is no longer available in English, the very helpful staff at Kitchen Arts & Letters informs me that there is a new book on the horizon. No release date yet.

Nathan Myhrvold, former CTO of Microsoft and French-trained chef is said to be working on a high-tech cookbook due out in 2009. Dr. Myhrvold has also worked with Professor Stephen Hawking on research in cosmology, quantum
field theory in curved space time and quantum theories of gravitation. Can't wait to see what he does with food.

July 25, 2008

At Madrid Fusion 2008, Ferran Adria demonstrated a black sesame cake
baked in a plastic cup in the microwave. It took 40 seconds.

As a card carrying member of the National Society of Cake Whores, the technique tickled my C-spot. Recreating it in chocolate is...well...let's just say it's good. Toe-curling, basking-in-the-afterglowgood.

OK, now that I've regained my composure, let me tell you why this cake has me purring. If you've ever made a sponge cake, souffle, or any hot egg foam, you have witnessed first-hand the unfolding and bonding of egg protein molecules. If your attempts have been successful--Congratulations! (maybe you would like to join the NSCW?). If you have failed, it may be because you didn't follow one of the many rules: overbeating, under beating, introducing fat, sugar, salt, acid at the inappropriate time, folding, not stirring, cooking too slow or too fast.

Reason #1 why I love this cake: Forget all the rules. This is egg foam anarchy.

Reason #2: Taste & Texture. Don't let the pale color fool you...it's because of the aeration. While it's true that eggs mask flavor, the taste of chocolate does come through and lingers. And just look at the structure. Have you ever seen air pockets that large in a cake? I haven't, and I've been making them since I've possessed the motor skills required to put a spoon in a bowl and stir. The only thing that can expand a batter like that is yeast. Or Nitrous Oxide and a microwave.

Reason #3: Ease & Speed. This cake goes from pantry to tummy in less than 10 minutes. The lengthiest part is melting the chocolate. If you use the microwave for that step, it's even faster. How can instant gratification be bad when it's this good?

Pour into a whipped cream charger. Fill only halfway. You will have enough batter left to make another batch. Charge with 2- N2O cartridges. Shake firmly 2-3 times. Dispense foam into a 9-oz. plastic cup, stopping when it is 1/3 filled.

Place cup in microwave. Set to bake at 900watts (for standard 1000w microwaves, set at 90% power or power9). Set timer to cook for 40 seconds. Watch it rise before your eyes.

July 23, 2008

I've been on a fruit soup kick lately. My juicer has been working OT. I promised him a break after this one.

The other night, I made a cold cherry soup infused with star anise and swirled with yogurt. I've never been to Morocco, but that soup took me there. Landed me in a souk in Marrakesh. With each spoonful, the saturated colors of silk and pottery intensified, the sounds of vendors haggling with buyers grew louder, the scent of leather and sweet spices grew stronger. By the time that I had finished, I half-expected to find my feet covered in dust and my house redecorated with exotic carpets and textiles, all purchased at the lowest possible price.

This strawberry soup, perfumed with Riesling and sweet woodruff sorbet, transports me to the Bavarian Alps, on the first day of May.

Sweet Woodruff (Galium odoratum) is a woodland herb
that grows prolifically in Northern Europe. In Germany, it is known as Waldmeister (master of the woods) and is steeped in white wine with strawberries to produce May Wine, traditionally served for May Day celebrations. It's primary aroma compound is coumarin, which lends it's characteristic sweet hay and vanilla flavor. Coumarin is also found in high concentrations in tonka beans; it's moderate toxicity is the reason why they are banned in the US. Fresh leaves of sweet woodruff have only a faint odor--they need to be wilted or dried to release the essential oils. In haste, a quick blast in the microwave does the trick.

Sour cream pearls couldn't be any easier when applying reverse spherification. Dairy products already contain sufficient amounts of calcium to react with a sodium alginate solution (1 liter water + 5 g. sodium alginate). This technique produces stable spheres that remain liquid in the center and can be served hot or cold.

July 20, 2008

The temperature hovers around 90 degrees on a hot and hazy afternoon in July. The oppressive humidity makes her skin feel clammy and her hair frizz. She stands over a grill, laying down pieces of halibut, their skin sizzling on contact with the hot grates. The heat from the flames rise and sting her face and hands, making her exposed flesh feel tight and sunburned.Less than 30 feet away, a group of children splash in a pool. The adults sit around a table in the shade of a pergola. Their conversation is languid, flagging in the heat. Why aren't they in the pool? If given the choice, that's where she would be.In the shallow end of the pool, the children play a raucous game of tag. Marco? Polo! She fixates on the way their hair drapes over their heads like sleek curtains. Wet. Cool. Refreshing drops fall on their shoulders and trail down their backs.In the deep end, a solitary boy lays floating on his back. His body is slack and motionless, his expression tranquil. He bobs in the wake from the game, an occasional wave laps onto his face. Unresponsive, he appears transcended, no longer earthly in his state of weightlessness. Suspended in Zero Gravity, oblivious to heat.She thinks of excuses to walk by the pool, closer than she ought to, and pretend to fall in. They would come running, concerned that she is hurt, put out at her clumsiness, worried that she may not be able to finish preparing their lunch. They would offer her a dry towel and a change of clothes. She would refuse, unwilling to part with the relief provided by her cool, wet clothing.A flare-up at the back of the grill diverts her attention to the fish. She lifts a piece to check the skin for crispness. She brushes the tops with fragrant basil oil and seasons them with garlic-infused sea salt. She flips them over, adjusts the heat, and checks her watch. In the shade of an oak tree, she reaches into a cooler and pulls out chilled soup bowls, laying them out in rows on the staging table. She lifts the lid off a cambro and is assaulted by the scent of nectar rising from the cantaloupe juice that she had extracted earlier. With a ladle, she parts the foamy raft that floats on the top and dips into the bottom for the clear juice. A full ladle is tipped into each bowl, followed by a spoonful of foam. She uncovers another cambro filled with rectangular planks of cantaloupe macerated in reduced Madeira. She wraps each piece with thin strips of Serrano ham, hiding a tender, young sage leaf within the folds.Glancing at her watch, she works quickly, moving the soup bowls onto a service tray and applies the final touches. She doesn't allow herself to be distracted by the swimming pool, but she is powerless to stop the images of a melon pool that is forming in her mind. She would build the walls out of gelled melon juice and fashion a liner from thin slices of the ham. She would fill the pool with melon juice and foam.Yes, it would work, she decides.The server appears at her side, mopping his brow with a napkin. She notices that his shirt is drenched in sweat and she can see through to the tattoo on his upper back.She asks wryly: Did you go for a dip?No, but I'm tempted.Yea, me too. She smiles and hands him the tray.

July 16, 2008

When I tell people that I've been cooking since childhood, they invariable ask how I remain interested and enthusiastic about the preparation of food. I could go on citing reasons for days--don't even get me started--but at the very top of the list is what lures me out of bed each morning:

It is the power of transformation.

Transformation is what hooked me on baking. It taught me the effect of fire and water and the role that science plays in the kitchen. Even now, I am still amazed at what butter, flour, sugar and eggs can become.

Outside of the kitchen, the theme of transformation is the common thread that unites my other interests. When I look at a raw carrot, it is no different than how I view a blank canvas, a length of fabric, or the lens of a camera. My eyes see what it is, my imagination tells me what it can be, my hands make it be.

The journey from abstract idea to concrete product is fueled by constant dialog about possibilities and limitations. The road is not always straight or direct, and I often take detours, get lost, and crash along the way. But the joy is in the journey-- the manipulation of infinite variables, the witnessing of and participation in the transformation.

The transformation that I am concerned with here is not the kind that happens in the kitchen, but at the table.

A clear, steaming hot consomme of fresh peas made by gelatin filtration is poured into a bowl of carefully arranged elements: a perfect raw oyster, a lacy mantle of roasted peanut oil and cocoa butter, mango pearls, and the flower, stems and leaves of pea shoots.

The initial effect, and most dramatic, is the melting of the roasted peanut-cocoa butter lace. Peas and peanuts are both legumes and share many aroma compounds. The emulsification reverts back to a fragrant oil that forms droplets on the surface and lends the soup an enticing aroma and flavor. As the consomme level rises, the pea shoots soften and float, the leaves open and unfurl. These add texture to the soup and reinforce the flavor of the consomme. The pearls dislodge and swirl to the bottom of the bowl, waiting to be scooped up and burst their bright mango juice in the mouth. The oyster coddles in the heat of the consomme and is intended to be the last voluptuous bite.

July 12, 2008

It's been awhile since I've watched a movie. Aside from lack of time, finding one that my husband and I both agree on begins to feel like an enterprise. He likes the kind that entertain with fast cars, impending doom, guns and blood. I like the kind that dig in and stick. Our common ground is the ones that make us laugh.

That's what I thought I was getting when he dropped a DVD into my hands with a grin on his face. I was nonplussed that he had handed me a romantic film by Wong Kar-wai, a Chinese director known for visually stylized films. Looking over the cast, a name jumped out at me and it all made sense...if there's one thing that he likes more than cars and guns, it's Nora Jones.

The movie, My Blueberry Nights, was almost forgettable despite the stunning melancholic atmosphere created by Wong through roving shallow lenses and lush chiaroscuro. The minor key mood was a good fit for Nora, but Jude Law never convinced me as a marathon runner wannabe who settles for running a diner where he makes blueberry pies that no one ever eats. It was the pie, and the way that Wong committed it to celluloid that I will remember: tight macro shots of ice cream salaciously melting into mounds of lurid blueberries. It was so deliciously lascivious that I wanted to avert my eyes.

In the end, it was blueberry pie that brought the characters together and endeared Wong to me as a film maker and food pornographer. And it inspired this dish.

Blueberry Pie

blueberry cheese

When I put raw blueberries through a juicer, something unexpected happened: the juice began to thicken and clot as it poured out of the spout. As it began to turn brown, I heated it to set the color and noticed that the soft clots had broken down into small, firm curds that reminded me of ricotta. I decided to treated it as cheese and let it drain overnight in a cheesecloth-lined sieve. The next day, I had a firm mass that could be sliced or molded and retain it's shape. After some research, I'm still not clear what caused the blueberry juice to behave this way. I initially attributed it to pectin, but 73 g. of fresh blueberries only contain 0.3 g. of pectin, making them a low-pectin fruit. However, blueberries do contain a significant amount of fiber, which in combination with the pectin, may have caused the juice to clot and form curds

blueberry sauce

Use the juice reserved from draining the blueberry cheese. Ultratex 8 is a modified food starch derived from tapioca that thickens liquids without applying heat.150 g. reserved blueberry juice8 g. agave nectar 2.5 g. ulratex 8Place all ingredients in a bowl and blend with whisk or immersion blender until starch swells and juice has thickened.

sous vide blueberries

Cooking blueberries at a low temperature leaves them firm and intact, yet taste cooked.1 pint raw blueberries60 g. reserved blueberry juice30 g. unsalted butter10 g. agave nectarPlace blueberries in a vacuum bag and seal. Cook in a water bath at 63C (150F) for 1 hour. Make a glaze by heating the blueberry juice and agave nectar over low heat. Whisk in butter until melted. Remove bag from water bath and toss berries in glaze. Serve warm or at room temperature.

roasted flour nuggets

Roasting flour is a technique introduced by Pierre Gagnaire and Herve This in their collaboration, Art et Science. Cooking flour in this way brings out the toasty aroma and flavor of wheat but it alters its starch and gluten molecules, causing it to lose much of it's elasticity. While roasted flour may not be suitable for baking bread, it's perfect for baked goods with sandy textures such as sables.40 g. all purpose flour8 g. confectioners sugar.5 g. salt13 g. tapioca maltodextrin30 g. unsalted butter, meltedPreheat oven to 325F (160C). Spread flour in an even layer on a baking sheet and roast in oven for about 45 minutes, stirring often until fragrant and golden. Cool completely. Toasted flour can be made ahead and kept in a sealed container.Preheat oven to 350F (180C) Place the flour, sugar, salt and TM in a bowl and toss to combine. Slowly drizzle in melted butter while tossing with a fork. Remove rounded nuggets as they form and place on a baking sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes and allow to cool completely before handling.

lemon balm frozen yogurt

Greek yogurt makes a sublime frozen product that rivals the best frozen yogurt boutiques. If it's not available in your area, plain yogurt can be drained overnight in a cheesecloth-lined sieve with similar results. I've found that the best way to infuse ice cream (or any sweetened cream base) with herbs is not in the cream, but by processing them with the sugar. The hygroscopic property of sugar draws out the essential oils in the herbs, making them more available.30 g. fresh lemon balm leaves100 g. sugar50 g. heavy cream300 g. greek yogurt, well chilledPlace lemon balm and sugar in a food processor and process with 10 pulses or until lemon balm is finely chopped. Working quickly, as lemon balm begins to oxidize and turn brown, empty contents of food processor into a saucepan and add heavy cream. Set over medium heat and cook gently, just until sugar melts. Remove from heat and pass mixture through a fine-mesh sieve. Chill until cold, then fold in yogurt. Freeze in an ice cream machine according to manufacturers instructions.